Degraded
by heartswells
Summary: [Content Warning: Binge Eating/BED & Extremely Negative Self-Talk] Eventually, her stomach, so very full, shrieked and sobbed; it could tolerate no more. She could eat no more, and her mind awakened. Repulsion and shame consumed her; she was abhorrent. Wh


**Content Warning: Binge Eating &amp; Extremely Negative Self Talk**

[USA] National Eating Disorders Association: 1-800-931-2237  
[USA] Binge Eating Disorder Association: 855-855-BEDA  
[USA] Suicide Hotline: 1-800-SUICIDE or 1-800-273-TALK  
[Canada] NEDIC Helpline: 1-866-663-4220  
[UK] Eating Disorder Association Youth Helpline: 011-44-8456-347650  
[Ireland] Local Helpline: 1890 200 444  
[Australia] Eating Disorders Victoria Help Line: 1300 550 236  
More resources available on my profile.

**Note: **I've eaten out of the trash during binges; I'm** not **attempting to insult binge eating by including it. Please remember that this is from the perspective of someone suffering from binge eating and that negative statements are intended to be a result of negative internalized feelings from the sufferer.

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_Degraded_

Quivering with voracity, her grimy fingers scrounged the trash bin for the delicacies her family has tossed away. Slimy wrappers kissed her palms and old juice cartoons leaked the remains of their fluids onto her arms; as she shoved the bin's contents to the side, other scraps toppled into their place, filling her with frustration and fueling her fear that her family would discover her committing this despicable deed. Finally, she found her treasure sitting atop a throne of filth.

The delectable scent of the take-out her sister had feasted upon had viciously teased her, dizzying her with lust and hunger. With darkened eyes, she had tersely poised herself against her bedroom door and strained her ears in anticipation of her sister finishing the meal. With each second, her agitation grew; clumps of mucus and saliva clogged her throat, and she furiously fidgeted with impatience. The sounds of the trashcan lid flapping as the finished meal tumbled into its depths resounded of the walls, and her sister's footsteps diminished down the hall. She pounced upon the remains.

The claws of her eating disorder wrapped around the throat of her consciousness and strangled her sensibility into silence, effectively eliminating her fears of germs and microbes. She crammed greasy, French fries into her mouth and reveled in their flavor as salt seared her tongue. She frantically scooped the treasure into her fists, alternately shoving the food into her mouth and pockets. Their flavors ignited a ravenous appetite in her blood that escalated into an insuppressible fury.

The French fries were the abandoned cigarette that began the forest fire. She pillaged the kitchen cupboards, snatching away each item to touch her gaze, and then dashed towards her room to toss the items to the floor. She raided the fridge for delicious leftover meals, and tore package after package from the pantry. Foods in shimmering glass storage containers and colorful cardboard boxes enchanted her, casting a spell that consumed her with greed for all that could be eaten. She fled to her room, having successfully depleted the kitchen.

The world ceased to exist, and any form of humanity she had retained diminished. Spoonfulls of peanut butter smeared across her lips, and chocolate bars coated her gums. Cookies disintegrated in her saliva, and potato chips turned to gooey clumps against her teeth. Milk, soda pop, and juices were flushed down her throat. Bread was turned to mush, and crackers splintered with each bite. Flavor after flavor was washed across her tongue until she could taste no more, and her jaw was sore. Eventually, her stomach, so very full, shrieked and sobbed; it could tolerate no more.

She could eat no more, and her mind awakened. Repulsion and shame consumed her; she was abhorrent. What a grotesque fool she was! She lay motionless, tortured by a form of bleak despair that resembled mourning. She could feel the fat boiling beneath her skin, forming and expanding across her body, adding to her revolting form. Crippling anguish seized her as she glanced at the clothing tags surrounding her trashcan: extra-large, plus sized, _obese_. Obese was her reality; it was her identity by medical definition, and it was utterly unbearable.

Weight gain was limitless; it never ceased and could not be defeated. She had begun as an average girl, neither skinny nor fat, but as time progressed and her binges became more frequent, she had transformed into a despicable, fat blob. Self-hatred had turned to self-_loathing_. Her figure was repugnant and obscene, and the entire world was disgusted by her. _"Obesity is an epidemic; obesity is a result of laziness; obesity is caused by a lack of education."_ She was a plague to society; she was a contagion that deserved to die.

Her disorder was not her fault, but she could neither believe she had a disorder nor that this was not her fault. It was her own mind that craved, her own hands that moved, and her own mouth that swallowed. A human was responsible for controlling their body and mind, thus she must be responsible for this atrocity. Surely, something was simply wrong with her – she was too undisciplined, too stupid, or too incompetent! If the fault was not her own, then whose was it?

Nevertheless, binging was a necessity to her life. Without her binges, she could not survive. Binging provided her only moments of peace; freed from emotion, she was able to be consumed purely by food. When entranced by a binge, she abandoned both her body and her mind; she became a being of nothingness, relieved of her life. She _needed_ to binge; she needed to binge_ to live_.

She found herself more deplorable with each day and withered beneath a depression that only further fueled her disorder. Her disorder degraded her and turned her into an immoral scavenger. She stalked her family for the remains of their food and manipulated bites from their hands. She scrounged the trash and the rooms of the house for every last morsel. She searched through purses and wallets and thieved money to binge with; endlessly, she hoarded food and plotted her next round of euphoria. She would do _anything_ to binge. She could not stop; she did not deserve to stop. She was too worthless to stop, and her self-loathing was harrowingly permanent – after all, _you are what you eat_, _and she ate trash._

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End Note: All my pieces have been rushed as of late since I've been using writing as a distraction during my "under-watch-after-eating" period; I apologize for errors. This is also a response to an anonymous user looking for BED fanfictions on the hetalia-eatingdisorderfancition blog. I **don't **take requests, but I was quite bothered to see that there was only one English BED fanfiction.


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